


The girl that mattered

by SilverDust09



Series: Post- A Dance with Dragons one-shot series [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Book Universe, Jeyne Poole crowns a King, Jeyne Poole gets her revenge, Jon Snow is King in the North, One-Shot, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24541690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDust09/pseuds/SilverDust09
Summary: I wrote this story, because a long time ago I had a discussion with someone about Jeyne Poole, in which the person claimed her character didn't matter. She is not important and therefore you are not supposed to care for her as a character but only in relation to Theon. Another person, a  Sansa fan, told me that it didn't matter that Jeyne Poole's rape wasn't so bad in the books, because she is not important.I disagree. She is important, and not only to give Theon redemption.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Jeyne Poole
Series: Post- A Dance with Dragons one-shot series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790203
Comments: 45
Kudos: 94





	The girl that mattered

**Jeyne**

Jon Snow’s touch on her cheeks was cold, but his face was still the same. Long and solemn, as if carved from ice. His dark eyes had first looked upon her with hope, but now she saw only pain and anger.

Jeyne shuddered again when he let go of her. He said nothing, as he left. Silent like a ghost.

Then, she wept, although she couldn’t say why.

Jon Snow and she had never been close. Like most of Sansa’s friends they had ignored him. He had only been the bastard.

Yet, after seeing how devasted he had been not to find his sister she felt as if she was back in the brothel in King’s Landing.

On the next day, she was woken by one of the spearwives, tall and beautiful, who brought her a cup of hot soup.

She also gave her name, but she was kinder than most. She even asked for Jeyne’s name and had given hers in return.

_Val._

No one had done something like this for her since she had been captured.

…

Two days passed and Jeyne slept. The only time she woke was during supper and even then she could barely say a sentence.

Only when Val brough her a cup of smelly tea, she finally managed an answer.

“Who gave you this?”

Val shrugged her shoulders. “Jon Snow said you would have need of this.”

Jeyne thanked her and drank the tea without hesitation. It was the only gift Jon Snow could give her. It was better than false words of pity.

…

Not long after, Jon Snow visited her again. He looked changed. He no longer wore the black of the Night’s Watch and his lacking hair was finally growing back. Yet, he remained cold and withdrawn as he looked upon her.

“You look better,” he said and sat down beside her. Jeyne was curled up in her furs. It was true. She did feel better, especially after her moonblood had come this morn. It felt, as if the blood had washed away Ramsay’s soiled seed. “Much better.”

“My nose,” she replied in a trembling voice. “I will never be pretty again.”

Jon Snow averted his gaze and clenched his hand to a fist. “I cannot give you back your nose, but I might be able to give you the bastard’s head, my lady.”

With these words, he had left her alone again. Jeyne didn’t sleep that night, rolling from one side to the other, Ramsay’s ugly grimace staring back at her.

She also wondered about Theon. Was he well? She knew she should hate him, but he had saved her.

…

Weeks passed and Jeyne slowly regained her health, yet she hardly saw anything of the queen or her sad daughter, the little princess with the disfigured face.

And why should the queen pay her any attention?

Jeyne was nothing to her. .

At last, a rider came from the south, bringing with him tidings of victories and death.

“Winterfell is free at last! The Boltons have been vanquished by the One True King!”

Jeyne listened attentively, but she cared little about Stannis Baratheon. She had hoped to hear from Jon Snow and the other Wildlings. Yet, she was too fearful to ask.

…

A moon later, she returned to Winterfell. It was still half a ruin and no longer felt like home.

The only difference was that it was no longer held by the Boltons, but was now overflowing with Northemen, Wildlings and Stannis’ men.

The only happiness she found there was to see Lady Alysanne Mormont again. The lady had accompanied her to the Wall and hadn’t changed one bit.

“You look much better, my Lady Jeyne,” she said almost cheerfully and pulled down Jeyne’s hood. “And soon you will feel much better as well.”

Jeyne wasn’t sure about that. She felt as if she had been broken beyond repair and as if it had been for nothing.

If Jon Snow had mistaken her for the real Arya, she might have at least given him some sort of comfort. In the end, he had not even been able to give her the bastard’s head. King Stannis had done it and had also taken Theon from her. _Curse him._

“I thank you for your kind words, my Lady Alysanne.”

That night she ate in company of Lady Alysanne and a lord from the Neck. Lord Howland Reed. He gave her sad looks whenever he looked upon her, but Jeyne tried to ignore it.

These pitiful looks would follow her until the end of her life. So much was sure.

The food was good, though. And the mulled wine helped to warm her up. There was also laughter and dancing. Everyone seemed in high spirits, safe for Jon Snow and King Stannis.

She also noticed that the lords of the North did not sit among the King’s Men. No, they sat among their own and so did the Wildlings.

The North was still split.

…

A weekturn later, Jeyne found out the reason. A miracle had happened and Lord Rickon Stark was brought home.

At first, Jeyne could scarcely recognized the boy. His red hair was wild and unwashed and he wore the garb of a Wildling. He also refused to speak in the Common Tongue and bit one of Stannis’ men when he tried to touch him.

That only changed when Lord Rickon Stark looked upon Jon Snow. Jeyne had been there with Val and the other spearwives that had taken some sort of liking to her. Perhaps it was only pity, but one of them was showing her how to use the spear every morn and Jeyne felt much safer now that she was learning how to defend herself.

The boy had stopped his raging at once and had broken out in tears. He had cried and cried, speaking to Jon Snow in a Foreign Tongue.

Later she had asked Val what it meant, but she had only shrugged her shoulders.

“The Skagosi tongue is foreign to me as well.”

It was only a day later, that she found out what Rickon Stark had told his brother, namely that he had renounced his claim to the North and considered himself now part of the Skagosi.

He also refused to live or speak with the Northmen. And when he was forced to take a bath he would rage and bite.

Even the spearwives found the boy incredibly hard to tame.

And Jeyne could only watch as the North was divided again.

Some of the tales sounded almost like a song. Aegon Targaryen had returned from his grave and had claimed the crown from the Lannisters.

King’s Landing had also been sacked by Lord Jon Connington, another ghost that had returned from his grave. They said the city had been burning with wildfire when the Golden Company had invaded the city, killing both King Tommen and his pretty Queen.

Jeyne had not wept for either of them nor for Sansa, whom she hadn’t seen since that fateful day she had been captured. At times, she eve wished Sansa had suffered like her, for betraying them all.

Yet, these were only the good tales. There were other tales, far more disturbing. They said that Oldtown had been taken and that the Redwyne Fleet had been swallowed by a mighty beast from the depths of the sea.

Jeyne couldn’t bring herself to believe any of it. She just wanted peace at last.

…

As expected, her peace of mind was soon disturbed by Jon Snow’s visit. It was his third visit and he looked changed.

He wore grey-and-black finery, almost like a lord. When they were children, everyone in Winterfell always remarked that he looked more like Eddard Stark than his other sons, but that was no longer true.

Perhaps it was the shorter hair, but his face looked softer and his nose was straighter in form. His eyes were also much darker. At times, they gleamed in a purple colour whenever the candlelight fell upon them.

He also seemed a tad happier and Jeyne believed to know why. Not long ago, she had heard the spearwives whisper about it: Jon Snow had been stolen by Val.

Jeyne had to ask what “stealing” meant and after they had explained it to her, she had almost smiled.

If she couldn’t be happy then perhaps it was a good thing that Jon Snow had found some happiness after all.

“Do you mind if we speak in private?” he asked her, while she was working on clothing for winter.

“Not at all,” she replied and was surprised when Jon Snow led her into a nearby chamber, barring the door behind him, as if he was afraid she might run off. It scared her a little, but Jon Snow had never hurt her. He was good. “What do you want to speak about?”

“This,” he said and handed her the parchment. “Read.”

Jeyne read it once, twice and a third time. At first she felt relief and then she felt anger. When she had read the man’s signature below, she nearly felt the urge to vomit on her boots.

Swaying as she was, Jon Snow caught her and helped her sit down on the floor.

“Are you well?”

“Sansa is alive,” Jeyne stuttered and embraced herself. “And the Lady of the Vale?”

“So I heard,” Jon Snow replied. “Are you not happy for her?”

“Happy,” Jeyne Poole stuttered and recoiled from his touch. “Happy for what? That Sansa got away while I was tortured and defiled? That she didn’t even pay for her _betrayal_ to Lord Eddard and _my_ father? No, I cannot be happy about that…Especially not, because of _this_ man…I cannot believe that she would consort with _him_ after all he did to me…”

“My lady,” Jon Snow said almost gently and touched her cheek. His hand was cold. Almost like ice. “What are you saying? What are you saying about Sansa? Wasn’t she your friend?”

“My friend!” Jeyne spat angrily. “Would a friend have left me rotting in Lord Baelish’s brothel? No, she didn’t even inquire about me. Not once.”

She averted her gaze when she told him the rest. “And she did betray Lord Eddard and my father. All these good men died for her!”

Jon Snow grown very silent. She could only hear his soft breathing and then the touch of his cold hands on her arm.

“What did she do?”

Jeyne met his gaze. It was dark like the night. “Lord Eddard told us that we would soon return to the North, but Sansa wanted to stay with Joffrey. So she went to the Queen and told her about Lord Eddard’s plans. On the next day, I found myself imprisoned. Then, I was brought to this brothel…they made me do things. Terrible things. And then, there was this man…this Lord Baelish. He came one day and said…Now my sweet…from this day on you will be Lady Arya of House Stark. And so I became Lady Arya of House Stark. The rest you know yourself.”

Jeyne could see he anger written all over Jon Snow’s face. Strangely, it felt good that he was angry on her behalf.

It made her feel alive.

“My lady,” he said at last and touched her shoulder, encouraging her to look at him. “Jeyne. I thank you for telling me the truth.”

Jeyne held unto his shoulder and buried her head on his chest. The tears burned in her cheek, but the anger gave her strength.

At last, she lifted her head and sought Jon Snow’s gaze.

“This Lord Baelish wants the North and Sansa is his tool. With Lord Rickon unable to rule he will try to install himself as regent or even try to give Sansa a crown. You must stop him.”

Jon smiled sadly. “I wish I could, but many still think me a bastard and a turncloak. I am lucky that there are so few Starks left and that Robb freed me from my vows in his last will. Still, that doesn’t mean I have a right to Winterfell or my brother’s crown.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jeyne insisted. “Theon was a turncloak too, but he saved me. He didn’t deserve to die nor do you deserve to be punished for helping us all, for helping the North. I am just a girl, but I think I can help you.”

Jon Snow nodded his head. “But how?”

Jeyne squeezed his arm. “By telling the truth.”

…

Jeyne didn’t even make any attempt to speak to Sansa upon her arrival, for it would mean to face Lord Baelish.

No, instead she hid away in the shadows, prying her time. And it came as it must.

Within a day or two, the Lords of the Vale were calling to crown Sansa as regent for her brother. Her overly-proud husband Lord Harrold Arryn was the loudest among them.

And why shouldn’t he? Jeyne had only gotten a brief glimpse at Sansa and had seen that she was with child.

She had even smiled, but not for long.

For that night, as King Stannis, the Lords of the North, the Lords of the Vale and the Wildlings came together to crown a queen or king, Jeyne spoke the truth.

The truth of a norther girl that had been sold into a brothel by Lord Baelish. The truth of a girl that had been tortured and defiled by the Bastard of Bolton to claim the North. The truth that her friend had betrayed her father for a Lannister.

And at last, she had shown them the truth of her scars, sprawling all over her body.

And with this truth, she had won Jon Snow a crown.

…

“The crown you gave me brings me little happiness,” Jon Stark told her a week later.

He was seated in Lord Stark’s solar, his wolf sprawled beneath his feet. He looked as lonely as Jeyne had felt since her father’s death, but that was no surprise. Lord Rickon still refused to see him and Sansa had gone into confinement. As for King Stannis, he had left for the Wall after the Lords of the North and the Lords of the Vale had refused to fight for his crown against the pretender in the South. Yet, Jeyne knew what the cause of his loneliness was: Val, the girl he had to sent away, for the King of the North could not consort with a wildling.

And he had a crown now, but not atop his head, but on the table before him. It was a northern crown, made of iron and engraved with runes. “But I still thankful for what you did. I have no right to this crown, but it might be the only way to save us all. For that, I want to reward you.”

Jeyne was surprised and confused. “What reward could you give me?”

Jon Snow’s dark eyes met hers. “Whatever you want. Lands? A husband? A title?”

Jeyne shook her head. “You don’t need to reward me. I already have my reward.”

Jon Snow gave her a confused look. “What is it?”

Jeyne Poole only smiled and left.

Her reward had been a simple one. To know that her suffering hadn’t been for nothing: She might just be the steward’s daughter, but she matter after all.

She had crowned a king and had taken her revenge.

For on the morrow she would see Lord Baelish’s head roll.

And perhaps then she would be able to smile again.

Perhaps she might even be able to speak to Sansa and forgive her one day.

…

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story, because a long time ago I had a discussion with someone about Jeyne Poole, in which the person claimed her character didn't matter. She is not important and therefore you are not supposed to care for her as a character but only in relation to Theon. Another person, a Sansa fan, told me that it didn't matter that Jeyne Poole's rape wasn't so bad in the books, because she is not important.
> 
> I disagree. She is important, and not only to give Theon redemption.


End file.
